


Five Hugs

by semele



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8821231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: Raven ends up keeping a count of how many times Bellamy hugs her. But some of the hugs clearly don't count.(Mentions of Finn's death and Raven's grief.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have a vague feeling that someone prompted this to me, but I don't for the life of me remember who and how...

(They don’t talk about the first one.

 

The first one is a sharp thing, more of a clash than a hug, and it leaves a bad taste on Raven’s tongue for days afterwards. It’s cruel, too, the way she claws into Bellamy’s skin, and leaves him shaking, leaves him needy and gasping for air.

 

They have sex, of course they do. That’s what she came here for, after all. But there is a moment there; Bellamy’s chest bare, and Raven’s fingers curling into talons when she buries them in his hair. He pulls her close just then, hooks her leg over his hip, and for a moment, Raven feels like the tension that’s bubbling under her skin would seep away if only she let it; if only she could find it in herself to bend her head a little further, and rest her cheek on his warm shoulder.

 

But, none of that. Raven Reyes, you see, only bends so far. It doesn’t count.)

 

***

 

The real first one is light and friendly as it should be – happy and welcoming, like Raven is remembering how to be a person, and hug people just right.

 

It means “hello there”, it means “thank God you’re safe”, it means “I’m glad you’re alive”. After days of searching for their people and Ark survivors in the woods, Bellamy smells like stale sweat and something vaguely dead, but Raven doesn’t care a fig. He hugs her like he missed her, hugs her before he looks at the metal contraption on her leg, hugs her like she’s precious, and whole, and gentle.

 

It only lasts for a short moment. Each of them has other people to greet, and then they need to go, hurry up and save the world. Their people are still out there, and Raven needs to get guns, needs to focus and think her way around the pain, needs to make this work, needs to…

 

So she snaps out of this weird, clingy funk. Get it together, Reyes. Just because you have a shiny new gaping hole in your lower back doesn’t mean you have time to linger.

 

***

 

(The second one is something horrid. It’s a howl trapped deeply in Raven’s chest, growing and growing until it explodes, and suddenly she’s on the ground, screaming like her lungs were made of fire. Finn’s head, you see, falls forward until his chin hits his chest, and Raven knows what it means, but it can’t be, fuck, it can’t be. It can’t be this easy to kill a person. Raven knows. She tried.

 

There is someone securing her as she falls; a hand resting gently on the side of her head, and a body cushioning her all the way to the ground instead of making a pointless effort to keep her from falling. There is someone touching her like she’s bleeding; like she’s a person capable of loss, and she has every right to mourn.

 

It doesn’t fully register how long he stays with her; those moments after Finn’s death do funny things in Raven’s head, and things go in and out of focus for hours afterwards. So she doesn’t exactly notice when Bellamy leaves. The only thing she knows for sure is that he isn’t there when their people find her again. She knows he must’ve left, you see, because there is no one by her side to stop them from putting the weight of the world back on her shoulders.)

 

***

 

Anyway, let’s just try again. Shall we?

 

The second one comes after Mount Weather, and it doesn’t really mean much. It’s an arm and a head, a quick squeeze of her shoulder and a vague feeling of Bellamy’s lips somewhere around her temple. There is no great story behind it this time; it’s just a bad day, and Bellamy shows up just in time to catch her when her leg acts up the way it does fifteen times a day. His touch is gentle and easy, nothing to write home about, and then he walks away almost before Raven can say thanks, like his help was just an afterthought. Like Raven is the kind of person who gets help here, and Bellamy is the kind of person who touches people like it’s not a big deal.

 

By evening, she has a nagging feeling like she wants to come back for more. But she doesn’t.

 

***

 

(The third hug doesn’t count because it can’t possibly. It’s feverish and hazy, first winter on the ground, and Raven doesn't fully register it until she’s in Bellamy’s arms. It’s all wrong, because he doesn't even mean to embrace her; he’s just using his body to push her up as he holds a cup of cold water to her lips, and Raven, the greedy little thing she is, clings to him anyway. You see, it’s been six weeks since anyone’s touched her, and yes, she knows the exact number. She’s been lonely enough to count, but not quite so desperate to reach out. Not now. Not when everyone looks at her like she’s either made out of crystal or out of steel, nothing in between.

 

Maybe Bellamy can feel her loneliness, because he lingers for a moment after setting the cup aside. His hand brushes Raven’s sweaty hair away from her forehead, and he mutters some nonsense about how she’s going to be alright, which is so damn stupid, because of course she is. She just has the flu. Has he always been so dramatic?

 

Two people die that flu season, and Bellamy sleeps in the infirmary until Raven’s fever breaks, but maybe he just does it for the warmth.)

 

***

 

The proper third, the kind that Raven is willing to acknowledge, happens near the end of winter. At least she hopes it happens. It must. 

 

Truth is, Raven has no distinctive memory of that third hug. All she knows is that a group of eight goes out for a hunt, and doesn’t return until almost dawn, but when they do, it’s with a haul so big she feels tears of joy burn her cheeks as she hobbles to their half-frozen gate. She hugs every single one of the eight, so surely she must hug Bellamy as well, but the moment doesn't register. Not with the worry for their return still rushing through her veins, not with the unforgiving grumbling of her stomach that will finally, finally be full today, and in the days to come as well. 

 

They could have a proper feast with all the hunters brought in, but it’s been a long winter, and they know better now than to think that a haul like this can be counted on in the future. They divide the meat meticulously, just enough for everyone to ward off the worst hunger, and Raven wants to protest with all the bitterness this brings to her mouth. She doesn’t, of course, because bitterness or not, Raven Reyes isn’t a child, and she understands stretching out meals so that they last. At least here, in this tiny village of theirs, no one gets to bully their way to an extra ration at someone else’s expense.

 

Bellamy sits shoulder to shoulder with her as they eat their stew, his eyes red from lack of sleep, hers from something else entirely, and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

 

***

 

(The fourth is angry and challenging, because maybe she is tired of this unspoken tension between them, and tired of hoping for scraps when she hasn’t been touched for six, seven, eight weeks. Her belly is full of spring vegetables and game, this must be why she has time and energy to worry about trifles like touch, or tension, or kisses.

 

She jumps him in her own workshop, corners him and grabs his hair in a familiar gesture, but before she can bite on his lower lip, he is kissing her back like his life depended on it, and Raven pulls back immediately. He doesn’t question her; just stands here, flushed and panting, lips swollen and hand grasping air right where Raven stood a moment ago.

 

For a moment, she wants to slap him. If he wanted her so much, why didn't he say something? Why did he let her go untouched and lonely, hugging herself for warmth under her blanket every morning before she mustered the will to come to her workshop? 

 

Why didn’t she say something?

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs eventually, hand going up to his lip. “Forget the lamps. I’d better go now.”

 

And she lets him, the idiot she is.)

 

***

 

It’s a bit awkward after that last one, but then: it’s really hard to avoid someone when you both live in a village of eighty. Still, Bellamy makes a valiant effort for all of two days. Then he comes back to her workshop looking strangely serene, and takes her into his arms.

 

It’s so chaste it feels almost brotherly. He lets her face rest against his shoulder as he strokes her hair and lower back with these big hands of his, and there is something so caring and personal about his touch that Raven suspects maybe he’s been keeping a tally as well. 

 

“We should talk,” he says once he’s had his fill of holding her in silence.

 

“I don’t want to.” She sounds like she’s pouting, she knows she does, and she doesn’t even care. Not when his fingers keep rubbing at the small of her back.

 

“I’m not moving away until we’ve talked this through,” he threatens, but there is something light in his voice, like a hint of teasing. Raven grabs his shirt with both hands.

 

“Good.”

 

***

 

(He holds her through the night after that, lets her stay in the cradle of his arms until they both doze off. Raven wakes a few times during the night, unaccustomed to a warm body crowding her narrow bed, but whenever she does, it’s to Bellamy holding her tightly. He smells of woodsmoke and sweat, and there are things under his fingernails she chooses not to examine too closely, but then, it’s not like she bathes every other night either. What matters is that his skin is soft and warm when she sneaks a hand under his jacket and shirt, and he hums sleepily at her touch, moving ever so slightly to scoot closer.

 

In the morning, Raven decides that maybe it’s time to stop counting.)


End file.
